


Tomorrow

by felinesandbeanies



Series: First, a gun shot [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Lams - Freeform, M/M, brief mentions of hamliza, mainly lams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinesandbeanies/pseuds/felinesandbeanies
Summary: Alexander caught a glimpse of the other side, heart racing as rays of golden light peak through and silent angelic drones deafen him. He is blinded by the honey citrine luster, but only for a moment. The light softens and he sees Laurens--his Laurens-- leading a soldiers’ chorus on the other side. His heart beat picks up its pace, so many years apart and there he is. or What happens after Alexander Hamilton is shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I'm currently working on a long ass slow burn Dragon Age Pavellan fic as well as a Percy Jackson Percico fic, but I just had to do this because damn it why not. Yes, I only write gay so if the hamliza bit is...off well yeah.

First, a gun shot.

Alexander caught a glimpse of the other side, heart racing as rays of golden light peak through and silent angelic drones deafen him. He is blinded by the honey citrine luster, but only for a moment. The light softens and he sees Laurens-- _his Laurens_ \-- leading a soldiers’ chorus on the other side. His heart beat picks up its pace, so many years apart and there he is.

He reaches out, fingers just an inch away.

“My dear Laurens,” he tries to say, but it is choked down by those eyes. Laurens sees him and smiles, he almost truly runs out to Laurens right then and there with a heart still burning with the flames he tried so hard to extinguish. Alexander tries to says his name again but the golden light is receding and it faded out the edges of this ethereal vision, his Laurens mouthed something he couldn’t decipher. What was it? He needed to know.

 _Please do not leave me again, there is nothing left for me to do._ Everything that was at the forefront of his mind was John Laurens. John Laurens. _John Laurens_. _**John Laurens**_.

Alexander Hamilton cries out, knees giving out beneath him. He has been shot.

Everything that happened next was all a blur and mixture of voices and the wind picking up so that it could bite his cheeks. He has managed to maybe understand a few of those hazy visions like Aaron Burr coming out to see him (probably to check if he was dead) but is ushered away or the sky moving so delicately past him only to realize that he was on a boat and that he was hallucinating things.

“...a lot of blood...”

“...infection...”

“...will not survive...”

He tries to argue with the doctor, tries to tell him that he could still count the clouds overhead so that was a sign that he would be fine. He should be fine. There are a million things he hasn’t done and, god help and forgive him, he needs to build something that would outlast him. The clouds seemed to form random shapes, floating past him as if they were unaware of his imminent death. Clouds turned into a solid ceiling, he wonders when that happened.

Where was he? Hardwood walls and white sheets with a strong medicinal smell he cannot quite fathom. The paintings on the wall seemed to stare at him with both pity and resentment. He did not need those to be directed at him. How was he not aware of the sudden shift of scenery and why was it so cold? A distant voice that is closing up on him, footsteps following it. Is this what heaven truly looked and felt like? He imagined it to be a little bit more illuminated.

He is finally aware of his Eliza’s worried eyes and Angelica who stood beside her with an equally as worried look. He was not dead yet. Alexander realized that he has never seen such strong women look so defeated before. Was it his fault? Alexander takes Eliza’s hand, forces out a smile and words out what he hoped were intelligible things.

“I love you more, Alexander,” she says, clasping her other hand on his. “Stay by my side.”

“There comes a time wherein I would give you everything that you wished,” Alexander said. “But now--” he winced. “Now I cannot.”

“Such pretty words from a dying man,” Eliza said, trying to be humorous and, of course, failing. “Rest, my Alexander. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

_Tomorrow._

“There are a lot of things I would like to say,” Alexander argued. “Won’t you at least entertain me?”

Eliza huffed out a laugh, fond eyes sparkling once again. “What does a man shot in between his ribs have to say pray tell.”

“Sweet Jesus.” Angelica sat down, ushering Eliza to do the same.

“Well...” And he talks. A lot. He is running out of time and the more he talked, the more Eliza and Angelica seemed to forget the situation they were in. He rambled about numerous things: his children, the constitution, and occasionally the plans and essays he planned to write _tomorrow_.

Tomorrow was such a poisonous word, it tricks you into hoping for more--for a life you will have to wake up to and live through. Alexander knew that tomorrow _never_ comes because there is only today and so today, he decides, he will love Elizabeth Schuyler with every fiber of his being because tomorrow--there is no tomorrow. Any other day he would tell her that he’ll love her until tomorrow and it would be romantically metaphorical, but now he knew that there was literally no tomorrow to speak of and yet he hopes for it.

When Angelica leaves the room to fetch water for all of them Eliza started talking animatedly against slavery, eyes sparkling with the burning passion that Alexander never grew tired of seeing. “Best of wives and best of women.”

“And--” Eliza paused to squeeze his hand, his words making her smile wider. “Jefferson will absolutely...”

Alexander starts to talk too, non-stop. He talked endlessly, noticing that Angelica and Eliza lean back on their seats with their glasses of water as they listened to him with pure love. Alexander seemed to detach from himself, letting anything and everything in his head spill out to the light of the world. He argues and rants about everything, almost forgetting that the sun was setting, almost forgetting about the day break he knew he would never see.

This would probably be the best time someone took note of his last few words or, better yet, last few paragraphs but there was not enough patience and he refused to leave this world quietly like most men. Sometimes Eliza would pitch in ideas and Angelica would hum in agreement. It seems to just push Alexander to talk more until finally he is exhausted. Alexander Hamilton is exhausted.

He lies back down, noting how soft the pillows were and how much he’d like to melt into it. Eliza leans into him and plants a soft and lingering kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

He smiles, appreciating her promise that he knew she would keep. She was always an advocate of keeping promises. Alexander’s vision tunneled, the only thing he could see was Eliza’s gentle smile and Angelica squeezing her shoulder. He loved her. He loves her so much but he can’t quite say the words.

He faintly hears Eliza sobbing out an "I love you." and Angelica's constrained comforting words that were directed more towards herself than her sister, before he finally surrenders to darkness.

 

Elizabeth Schuyler was still there even if he did not wake up.

 

 

Alexander shields his eyes from the blinding lights. There was no hardwood walls, there was no opinionated Angelica, and there was no Eliza holding his hand. He knew where he was and he cannot help but feel a bit proud of his own self-awareness. After a moment, the lights seemed to have dimmed enough for him to lower his arm.

Golden gates.

Soft honey lights.

He hears singing, a soft tune of welcoming.

"Alexander." He turns, heart aching with familiarity. And _shit_ those eyes. " _My Alexander_."

Alexander finds his voice, collecting dust in the back of his throat. "Laurens. My dear Laurens."

Alexander broke the spell of paralysis that seemed to constrict him and goes to him, practically runs like a desperate child reaching for a sweet. He wrapped his arms around John and he almost sobbed when he realized that this man was real. John was warm and he held Alexander just as firmly--he held him back. "Laurens, you're here."

He managed to stumble on a rushed “I miss you” mixed in with an “I dream of you always” and he wonders how he even slowed down enough to avoid biting his own tongue. Alexander realized that he did not sound intelligible but who would it concern? He certainly found no need to worry about such a thing because his John was here. John. _John. **John.**_

John pulled away to look at him, corners of his eyes crinkling with happiness. "I have been waiting for you."

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"I have been waiting for you," John said, pushing away from the wall he was leaning on to stand straight. In his hands were two cups of hot chocolate that he secretly hoped would soothe Alexander's anger. He was always angry after this particular class.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Alexander groaned, leaning his whole body on John and propping his chin on his shoulder. Alexander greedily absorbed John's warmth into his skin. Three hours in a god awful prejudiced and misogynistic government class at night drained him to no end. Alexander was so sure that his arguments seemed to be hitting a brick wall instead of a professor. He was almost ready to give up and drop it but Alexander Hamilton never gives up and okay maybe seeing a John Laurens at the end of his class helped him a bit.

John snorted. "Probably fought a war in your past life. Your hot chocolate might get cold."

"Oh," Alexander pulled away, taking the hot chocolate and downing half of it in one gulp. He looked at John who was already looking at him with a fond smile. "Home?"

"You mean our hurricane of an apartment?" John laughed. He extended his hand, interlacing his fingers with Alexander's. "Home." The word somehow managed to mean two things at that moment.

"Charles Lee--"

"Is he always such a pain in the ass?" Alexander made a sound accompanied with this face that said 'I fucking know right?'

 

"He defended Jefferson's claim that slavery is and was justifiable!" Alexander exclaimed. "I swear to you, you would have punched him."

John rubbed his chin as if he was thinking. "Lee or Jefferson?"

"You have two hands for a reason, my dear Laurens."

"Well..." John trailed off, raising their linked hands. "One is preoccupied."

Alexander rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself for feeling butterflies. "How you manage to make me giddy is beyond me."

"I'm your little starlight freckle," John pouted, then laughed.

Alexander blushed. "YOU--John--ugh you said you didn't see anything!"

"It's cute," John said, kissing Alexander's cheek. "You're cute."

They walked hand in hand like that, through the silent hallways and out the cool night air. The wind bit Alexander's cheeks with some form of familiarity he can't quite place but he enjoyed the feeling nonetheless. He smiled when he heard leaves crunching beneath his steps, the sound almost melodious. It was no Bach but still.

Alexander took note that his boyfriend was wearing his turtle backpack and he knew that the only thing in there was his charger and a power bank. God help him, why was his boyfriend so cute? John felt his stare, then looked at him with a curious gaze. "I love you."

John smiled then looked ahead. Alexander took no offense, it was enough that John knew. He wondered briefly if this would be his life now and if they'd walk side by side like this until they were bed ridden. It wasn't such a bad thought after all. JohnandAlexander instead of John and Alexander. John Hamilton? Alexander Laurens? John and Alexander Hamilton-Laurens?

_No, Alexander._

The walk to their small apartment wasn't long and soon John realized that he was closing the door behind them. They were both sure that they were walking in a dreamy haze, each too absorbed and focused in their own train of thought. Alexander threw his bag on the ground, all the while stretching and moaning when he heard cracks within his body. Charles Lee and all his other idiotic countrymen will be the death of him. He felt his fingers twitch with the need to write an essay against everything that embodied his demon of a professor.

"Don't you dare open your laptop," John said from the bathroom. "I swear to god, Alexander."

"I wasn't!" Alexander huffed, fingers slowly retreating from his laptop bag.

When they were both in bed, Alexander wrapped an arm around John's waist tightly with his head on the other's chest. The slow beating of his heart combined with the rise and fall of his chest was Alexander's secret lullaby. It was the only thing that could lull him to sleep in record time. He was starting to doze off when--

"Until when?"

"What?" Alexander said, almost a whisper. He was starting to dream at that point.

"Until when will you love me?" John sounded so vulnerable that Alexander really did have to look up. He searches John's eyes for some kind of mischievous glint, a hint of a joke, but there was none.

Alexander craned his neck to kiss John's chin, pulling away with a smile. "Until tomorrow."

John rolls his eyes, annoyed. "But tomorrow never--" John cuts himself off as his mouth formed an 'o' in understanding. Alexander felt himself blush. Why was he such a fucking sap? The corner of John's eyes crinkled as he smiled back. "Until tomorrow then."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll try to update my series and it'll probably consist of College AUs. Do tell me if you liked my writing so I'll know if this fandom works for me.


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